Second Chance
by HolyOrdersOtaku
Summary: Pyrrha awakes to start a new day. The weather is beautiful, and she has nothing to worry about. Everything is just perfect, say for the things she sees right before she wakes up every morning. Rated T for language.
Prologue: Don't Fear the Reaper

Pyrrha was outclassed in every way imaginable. Cinder was mighty, and the gladiatorial girl couldn't hope to match the witch's power by sheer force. She had hoped to outsmart the deceptive bitch, but quickly discovered that Cinder's intelligence matched her brute force, forming a strange and alien form of finesse and elegance that brought her brutal actions together to form something terrifying and artistic. The fight was one sided from the beginning, and Pyrrha knew that this was her end.

In a last ditch effort, she threw her shield in an attempt to at least disorient Cinder and maybe buy enough time for some sort of help to arrive. Cinder shot off an arrow made up of Dust and glass, and Pyrrha thought that her shield would deflect it. She was eternally shocked when she saw the arrow break down into tiny slivers of sharp glass, bend around her shield, and reform into a perfectly solid mass on the other side, maintaining momentum as it raced towards her. Sickeningly, it pierced her ankle, and she dropped to her knees, and Cinder approached slowly with a victorious smile upon her terrifyingly beautiful lips. Pyrrha stared in wonder at her beauty, and she accepted her fate. "Do...do you believe in destiny?" she asked.

Cinder paused, hesitation replacing her confident demeanor. "Yes," she said begrudgingly before she knocked another arrow. Pulling back on the bow, she took aim and let loose the projectile. The crystalline arrow pierced her chest and the wind was knocked from her breast, forcing a pained and inaudible gasp. It burned. She could feel her insides burning with an intense heat that she couldn't comprehend. She wanted to scream, but she remained silent as her voice was caught in her throat. No air remained in her lungs as she painfully tried to breath. Cinder approached and placed a hand upon Pyrrha's brow.

She could feel the heat grow from within, but now she felt comfortable instead of in agony. Instead of burning her to the core, she now felt comfortably warm. _I'm sorry,_ she thought. _Please don't cry, Jaune._

She silently prayed that her friends would live on after her, and become the protectors of Remnant that they were meant to be. Her hearing faded for a moment, and after a time she could finally hear something again.

The agitating sound of something blaring...

* * *

 _BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

"Nng," Pyrrha groaned as she rolled over in her bed and practically slapped the alarm clock on the bedside table. "I don't _wanna_!" she moaned hoarsely. Barely opening her emerald eyes, she saw that the clock read as seven in the morning. She sighed, resigning herself to her fate.

Throwing the blankets off, she swung her pale legs and placed her bare feet onto the clean beige carpet to stand. She stretched, working the stiffness out of her limbs, and even felt her back and shoulders _pop_ as she did so, all while yawning immensely. Smacking her lips together, she slowly made her way to the master bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and switched on the lights, standing in front of the massive mirror. Her hair was loose and frazzled, her white tank top was covered in wrinkles, and her bronze colored short shorts that she used as pajamas were tilted somewhat sideways on her waist; she'd moved around in her sleep. It was an old, unconscious habit of hers, one that made her thankful that it was normal to not sleep with a bra on.

She yawned once more, covering her mouth with her hand in process, before she leaned in and gave herself a closer inspection. Her eyes narrowed at what she saw. _We meet again, clogged pores,_ she thought, feeling a little irritated. Running some cold water into a glass, she began to brush her teeth. Once that task was complete, she switched to hot water and wet a wash rag. Applying soap, she washed her face religiously, cleansing her pores as best she could before she dried her skin and returned to her bedroom to dress.

Today, she decided to wear a beige colored skirt, a white short sleeved dress shirt, and a red zip up hoodie. Once that was settled, she set about to brushing her long red hair and tying it into a neat pony tail. Nodding at her appearance in the mirror, she made her way to her living room that doubled for her dining room and turned on the small, twenty-four inch television she had resting on a coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Good morning! It's Friday, March Eighteenth, and the forecast for the West Coast United States looks rather lovely today, doesn't it Dillon?" said the newscaster on the screen.

"That's right," said a short man in a professional suit who seemed to never stop smiling. "We're looking at mostly sunny conditions with a high in the low nineties. Today is a very beautiful day for outdoors activity, so be sure to get out and enjoy this lovely day!"

Pyrrha watched the program with mild interest as she prepared and ate a simple bowl of cereal. Smiling, she grabbed the keys to her apartment and left through the main door, locking it as she went. She waved goodbye to her landlord, Peter Port, as she made her way to the street, feeling more than ready to take on the day.

It was a beautiful day in Seaside. In spite of having to work, she felt unbelievably happy.

* * *

 _Song: (Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult_

 **Author's Note**

I hate these story ideas I get. Not because their bad or that I don't want to write them. No, I absolutely love getting these ideas. They give me a newfound passion to write every so often. No, what I hate is _when_ I get these ideas. I have to be at work in less than eleven hours, and I should be in bed. I got this idea at four in the damn morning as I was going to bed. Just like _A Rose By Any Other Name, Team Effort,_ and _The Longest Night_ , I am losing sleep because I know that if I don't write this now then I will never write it.

I'm not one hundred percent sure where this story will go, but I do have an idea. We'll call it...I don't know, sixy...seventy percent? Seventy sounds good.

Please leave a review or PM me to let me know what you think so far. Your feedback is always welcomes, appreciated, and I always enjoy replying when I can. :D

Fun Fact: I don't know when I'll get another day off. We're most likely going to be on a seven day schedule for a while. Yay...

Till Next Time! :D


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